


First Comes Anger

by ornategrip



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Clothed Sex, Diego's hurting so he lashes out, Dry Humping, Grief, Luther's a bit reluctant but he comes around, M/M, Mourning, Sibling Incest, canon character death, fighting that turns to sex, mentions of Luther pining for Allison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 05:24:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18439928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ornategrip/pseuds/ornategrip
Summary: Rage is easier to deal with than grief. Diego’s spoiling for a fight.





	First Comes Anger

Luther’s hand was wrapped around Diego’s throat.

It was wrapped around Diego’s throat and his feet weren’t touching the ground. He had been seeing red, nothing but red when he had launched himself at his brother but now he was seeing black, blooms of negative color sparking in his periphery. It wouldn't take much longer before his power kicked in and somehow, he didn't want that either.

He couldn’t shout but he could snarl, bare his teeth in intimidation.

He clawed at Luther’s hand, the big leathery fingers rough against his throat. They were an animal’s hands, that was what he had called Luther, what he had mocked him for. Nothing but an animal, sniffing after their sister and couldn’t he see she’d never want something like him?

He swung his leg up and slammed his knee into Luther’s side. It didn’t even shift Luther’s feet but it was enough to make his grip weaken for just a second and a second was all Diego needed.

Diego had always been faster, had always been _better_. All Luther ever had on him was strength. He slipped out of his brother’s grip and dropped down to his heels, sweeping hard with his leg and knocking Luther down.

He jumped on top of him and began to slam his fists down on Luther’s chest, pounding at him hard enough to sting his own hands. Diego was screaming, it took him a second to realise _he_ was the one screaming. And then it took him another second to realise just what he was screaming about.

“F-F-Fuck you! Y-you think you know? Y-you think you get it?”

Eudora was dead and that was something Luther was never going to understand. He had gotten Allison back, mute and angry with him, but back. Diego was never going to see Eudora again.

Mom was dead, crushed beneath the mountain of their own private hell on earth, the monstrous house Dad had built as their prison. Luther had called her Grace, as if she hadn’t been their mother.

Luther didn’t get to come to him, to try to talk to him. To try to be a brother, after all these years of being nothing but the competition in a game Diego had always been slated to lose. There was no winning Dad’s love, not with Luther there to be Number One.

“F-f-fuck y-y-ou,” he said again, near spitting and Luther was looking up at him, eyes wide. He didn’t look angry any more, didn’t look like the man who had grabbed Diego by the throat and squeezed. He just looked like Luther, his brother, and for a moment Diego hated him for it.

He didn’t need his brother.

He tried to hit harder, that solid mass that was Luther’s chest, different and wrong. The thing Dad had twisted Luther into, what he had twisted _all_ of them into and Dad was dead too, the only death Diego could ever be happy about.

Luther was just laying there, letting Diego hurt him, not trying to defend himself. Like Diego wasn’t even worth hurting back, like Diego was small and insignificant and barely worthy of notice. Diego’s screams were edging towards sobs and he knew it and hated it.

He wanted a hand around his throat again, something to shut him up, to make him stop.

“Y-yeah, yeah,” he said, low and mean, “Just a fucking animal except you don’t fuck, do you? Wait, that’s right, your girl from the club, the one who fucked you because you weren’t a man, you were a-”

That got a reaction, Luther scowling and rolling them over, his heavy bulk pinning Diego to the ground. Diego howled, tried to arch up, twisting an arm to shoot an elbow at Luther’s face. Luther jerked back at the last minute, barely avoiding a bloody nose.

Diego swung his free arm back and managed to collide the back of his hand with Luther’s jaw. Diego’s hand stung and red bloomed across Luther’s face, evidence that what Diego did could hurt, that it mattered.

“If I had my knives,” he seethed, “If I had-”

Luther canted his weight off but before Diego could take advantage, his hands were on Diego’s shoulders, lifting him up and slamming him back down. Luther did it again, knocking the air right out of Diego and making his head spin.

“Stop!” Luther said and he sounded a little desperate. “Would you just stop?”

“No,” he spat because he didn’t want to stop. He wanted rage, his own rage, his brother’s rage. It didn’t matter. He wanted to hold onto that anger and not let it turn into anything else. He wanted Luther to hurt him in a way he could understand, in a way he could manage because it was familiar and easy. What were blood and bruises in his line of business? 

Diego darted his head forward and bit down into the meat of Luther’s shoulder, as hard as he could. Hard enough to hurt but not as badly as he wanted to, layers of clothing protecting Luther from his teeth.

It was enough to make Luther yelp, though, and let go and Diego wrapped his own arms around Luther’s neck and hauled him to the side. They were rolling again, a hard scrabble, no finesse and if anyone were to see them, they would think them untrained.

His dick was hard, of course it was hard, he always got at least a little bit hard during a fight. It was reflex, biology, pumping blood and adrenaline. The moment Luther felt his dick, Diego felt _that_. Felt it in his stillness, the way the breath stuttered in Luther’s chest, their bodies so closely pressed together, Diego could feel Luther’s breathing as if it were his own.

Luther was on top again, staring down at Diego, mouth gaped open, shocked.

Like this never happened to you, Diego thought bitterly and it was spite that made him roll his hips. Somehow, the fact that it felt good came as a shock. Diego hadn’t been thinking of pleasure, he hadn’t really been thinking at all. He did it again and shuddered, letting his head tilt back against the floor.

Above him, Luther was this massive thing, big enough to block the light, big enough to block everything in the world. Diego rocked up against Luther’s big, still body, rubbed his cock slowly and deliberately so Luther could feel every bit of it.

Diego knew how to fuck. He knew how to use his body to catch someone’s eye, to get their interest. He knew more about that than Luther did. He rolled his body again, lifting his head up to press a kiss against Luther’s throat before scraping his teeth exactly where his mouth had been.

It broke Luther’s stillness, made his brother shudder and whine so Diego put his teeth there, where his skin was thin. He rocked his hips, sucked on Luther’s neck, felt Luther’s hips stutter down. Luther was getting hard too, Diego could feel it, hot and twitching as it came to life between them.

Luther was beginning to pant, breathing harder from this than from the fight before. 

“Yeah,” Diego said and he wasn’t sure what he was agreeing to. He didn’t want to think, he didn’t want to feel but if he had to feel something let it be physical. Let it be sensations and touch and Luther’s too heavy weight.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” 

Diego didn’t mean to ask it but he did and regretted it because it shook Luther back to himself. Made his brother blink through the fog, looking a little shell shocked as if he didn’t understand how he had ended up here, on top of Diego, cocks pressed tight.

Well, he could join the club. Diego pressed his mouth to Luther’s neck and began to suckle. He’d look good with a hickey, high enough where he couldn’t hide it and all their siblings would know.

“Wait, wait!”

Luther began to pull away, twisting his head away from Diego, getting far enough away that Diego couldn’t keep his mouth on him. Luther shifted his weight, levering himself up on his hands, fingers splayed out on either side of Diego’s shoulders.

He stared down at Diego, blush high across his nose, his pupils dilated, his mouth wet even though Diego hadn’t even kissed him yet.

“We, we can’t do this, it, it’s not right...”

He sounded like he was the one with the stutter.

Diego scoffed wordlessly, reached up to wrap a hand around the back of Luther’s neck and tried to pull him back down. Luther didn’t move in the slightest, not even to pull away. He was simply an immovable object and Diego had yet to become an irresistible force.

Diego fell back to the floor, staring up at Luther for a moment before deliberately wrapping his legs around his brother’s waist. It took an easy flex of muscles to bring their cocks back into contact and even through clothes it made Luther moan, eyelashes fluttering.

What did Luther know about how good it could feel? He probably only jerked off once a week, telling himself it was a form of discipline. Luther was whimpering with every roll of Diego’s hips, his arms starting to shake as he struggled to keep himself up.

It took three more sinnous moves before Luther’s arms gave out and he collapsed on top of Diego, hips rutting down in to the cradle of Diego’s thighs.

Diego twined his arms around his brother’s neck, keeping him close as Luther took over the rhythm, moving his hips and grinding their cocks together. Luther’s face was buried in his neck and he could feel his hot, wet, breaths in the space between them.

He clutched at the nape of Luther’s neck as Luther rutted on top of him, rocking his own hips up in counterpoint. He knew this dance, even if he had never done it with his brother, knew what it could give him, knew what his bruises would look like later.

It wasn’t enough though, Luther not nearly mean enough, either from his own inexperience or maybe Luther just didn’t have that kind of meanness in him. His thrusts had mellowed the moment Diego had ceded control, no longer punishing. It still felt good but it didn’t feel _mean_.

Diego tightened his grip on Luther’s neck, let his fingernails dig in to leave little crescents on Luther’s skin.

Luther seemed to sense his dissatisfaction because his thrusting slowed and he lifted his head to look Diego in the eye. That was the exact opposite of what Diego wanted and he tried to urge him faster, tried to recapture the urgency. Tried to get him to give Diego what he needed.

“Don’t stop,” Diego said, his voice low and harsh. “Just don’t.”

For a moment, one horrible moment, it looked like Luther _was_ going to stop, to leave Diego like this, empty and aching and angry at a world that didn’t care. He was studying Diego’s face so carefully, as if everything Diego was feeling was written there in fine script and Luther just had to make out the words.

Diego’s heart was racing in his chest. Luther closed his eyes for a beat, his brows furrowed as if thinking something through. After a moment, Luther seemed to come to some sort of conclusion and when he opened his eyes again, his expression was fierce and determined.

“No. I’m not going to stop.”

Luther kissed him, sloppy and aggressive, probably the best kiss a mostly virgin could manage. Diego bit at his mouth, blood thrumming and drowning out all the other things screaming inside his head.

Luther began to work his hips again, thrusting hard enough to push Diego into the floor, concrete unforgiving along his back. That felt good too, the pain and the pleasure tangling in on themselves. They were pushing everything else out, every thought, every emotion, everything that wasn’t Diego’s body, rushing ever closer to orgasm.

He was going to come in his pants and he hadn’t done that since he had been an angsty teenager, set off at the slightest breeze. But it was what he wanted now, something without thought, base lust, something like an animal who never thought of anything beyond the moment.

He clutched at his brother’s shoulders, muttering coarse encouragement in his ears and if Luther could ignore his stutter, so could he. He let the words tumble out how they wanted, lewd and demanding and _fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, please_.

He pictured the words in his mind, being spitted on Luther’s cock, getting fucked. Being taken care of.

The pleasure and pain were drawing tighter and tighter within him, as if threatening to break apart his very bones if it didn’t give. This unbearable tension coiling, roiling in him and he grabbed at his brother, needing something to anchor him, something solid and real to hold on to.

Luther was chanting his name over and over again, he had never said Diego’s name like that, with that intonation, with that pure want. He was heat and warmth and rhythmic pressure between Diego’s legs, thrusting against him like he was fucking into him.

He was something familiar, no matter the years between them and the changes life had inflicted on them both. His brother, his Number One, someone he had grown up with long before they had grown apart.

Diego tipped his head until he could capture Luther’s chanting mouth, kissed him and held him somehow tighter. Kissed him a thank you and I’m sorry and I missed you and please don’t go away again.

Luther kissed him all those things back and got an arm beneath Diego, around his waist and where his spine naturally curved. He was surrounded by his brother, from above and below, rocking so eagerly between his thighs and the orgasm when it hit was a like a wave, crashing over head and pulling him under.

Drowning him.

Luther came too, Diego could hear him and feel him, the whine, the shudder. The way Luther collapsed on top of him like a puppet with its strings cut. Diego took the weight gladly because he needed that too, the burden on his bones and the pressure on his lungs. Something to anchor him down, now that pain and pleasure had gone and left him empty.

His head was quiet, no longer screaming a million different things at him in a million different voices. Nothing had changed really, everything was still so fucked up but at least Diego no longer felt like he was about to fall apart, about to disintegrate, his sanity hanging on by a thread.

He shut his eyes and catalogued himself. The trembling in his limbs, the sweat drying on his skin, the little blooms of pain the promise of later bruising. He was Diego Hargreeves and Luther was his brother.

Eventually though, Diego began to push at Luther, the weight of him making it hard to breathe. He was so much denser now in this new body, Dad’s serum changing something fundamental in his DNA. Luther wasn’t completely human anymore but there were plenty of days when Diego didn’t feel human either.

Luther rolled off him and Diego took his first real breath since he had goaded his brother into grabbing his throat. Come was getting sticky and uncomfortable in his pants but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything about it. He just opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling, his breathing finally beginning to come down to normal.

Next to him, Luther was warm and solid and real.

“I’m sorry,” Luther rasped, his voice hoarse.

“Yeah,” Diego said quietly, “Me, too.”

And that’s when he started to sob, body shaking and Luther pulled him in close and just held on.


End file.
